For Love of a Musketeer
by SiriuslyKate
Summary: France has momentary peace from Richlieu, but all is not well. D'Artagnan's sister arrives in Paris only to discover plot to kill the King, be falsely accused of murder, & force Athos to relive his nightmares as he fights for one, & they fight for all.
1. Chapter 1: Welcome to Paris

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any of Alexandre Dumas' characters or story lines. His work simply left me romantically inspired to continue where he left off :)

This is the first fan fiction I have written in a very long time. I am not writing it to be a literary genius, although I usually use this type of writing to better said skill. I was simply inspired by the movie to reread the book again and from there decided I might like to pick this up again. I've found that as another year of college has started that it has been both good stress relief and therapy. I love these characters and after all I simply can't stand leaving a poor character all alone and miserable. I do love a good adventure, not to mention a good love story! Cheers!

**Chapter One**

_Paris, France only weeks after the downfall of Cardinal Richlieu and the dispersion of his students and guard. The Musketeers once again guard the King, streets, and people of France..._

Horse and rider blazed through the streets of Paris clearly anxious to reach their destination. With the recent usurping of the evil Cardinal, it was not uncommon to see such joyful riders galloping through the streets with happy news or long awaited reunions. Countless women were seen weeping on the street as their men returned to them daily, the looming war with England no longer imminent.

This rider was also looking forward to a happy reunion, but he was a brother awaiting his sister. D'Artagnan was racing toward the pub that he knew his friends Athos, Porthos, and Aramis frequented in the hopes that they would assist him.

His sister was due that very afternoon, and he being who he was had been promised to a duel. Always a man of honor, he couldn't very well miss the duel and have his name slandered nor could he consider himself a gentleman if he were not to meet his sister. He was hoping his friends would not turn down the chance to escort a beautiful woman home.

"Ho there, D'Artagnan!" Porthos had just exited the pub upon his young friends arrival and raised his brows at his haste. "What have you gotten yourself into now, my man. 'Tis a woman or a rogue, from your speed."

D'Artagnan leapt from his horse with a grin, "It is both I'm afraid Porthos. I am somewhat in need of your assistance, possibly the three of you." He nodded in greeting to Aramis and Athos who had followed their companion into the street.

"In trouble so soon?" Aramis answered. "Be careful, or we may grow tired of saving your arse."

Athos chuckled, "Or at least fighting his battles for him."

D'Artagnan scowled, "I can fight my own battle thank you very much."

"Then it is woman trouble he is having!" Porthos exclaimed. "My dear boy, you always know who to come to when you need advice on women. I'm your man."

"Actually, Constance and I are fine," D'Artagnan shifted his weight anxiously. "It's my sister, Juliana. She's to arrive at the outpost today and I have a promise to keep with a man at that same time this afternoon. I'm afraid she'll be in need of an escort."

"She's your sister?" Athos asked raising a brow.

"Is she beautiful?" Aramis interrupted.

"Is she married?" Porthos winked.

D'Artagnan grinned, "You have my thanks gentlemen. I wouldn't allow her to travel the streets of Paris without an escort."

"Always happy to help a beautiful woman," Aramis answered. "You did say she was beautiful? I have a hard time picturing your sister. I keep seeing you in a wig and dress."

Porthos shuddered, "Not beautiful."

"If you find she does look like me in a wig and dress, please do not inform her of it," D'Artagnan answered exasperated. "Meet the coach at the carriage stop by noon. She arrives at one." He hopped onto his horse and took off without another word.

"He's a funny fellow is our young friend," Porthos chuckled. "Can't even find the time in a day between his woman and duels to greet his own sister."

"Where is his family from again?" Athos asked. "Gascony?"

"I've not seen many a wench from Gascony that are fair of face," Aramis mused. "Perhaps we _shall_ only find a more feminine version of our newest Musketeer."

*****

Juliana de Castlemore was sad to see the beautiful hills of Gascony become the rougher, settled roads into Paris. The city was always exciting, but it was never as refreshing and beautiful as the hillsides. Still she couldn't help being excited. She had not seen Paris since before her father's death, and it was wonderful to know that it would still be lined with the reassuring colors of the King's personal guards, the Musketeers.

She could still remember being a little girl chasing after her little brother as they reverently followed the Musketeers around the palace. It had been so exciting. Even as an adult it was hard to believe that someone had tried to be rid of such a magnificent force and symbol to the people of France.

She and her mother had both been proud to hear of D'Artagnan's accomplishments and induction. The disgrace the D'Artagnan family suffered upon their father's framing had been horrible. How fantastical D'Artagnan's story had seemed to them after such grief and injustice; not to mention a welcome excuse to escape her late husband's fortress.

What a relief it had been to finally have an excuse to shed her mourning clothes and set off into the countryside with her handmaids and small contingent of bodyguards to visit her brother. Being married off to a man she hated had been arduous, pretending to _mourn_ for that man had been torture. And so, she had refused horse and carriage and set out on the three-day journey to Paris.

What her late husband would have thought. She never had fit into the picture of what he thought a lady should be. After all, she'd grown up in the countryside of England, not in a parlor or as a courtier's daughter. She had never dreamed of becoming a Comtesse. And if she had, she would never have imagined it would mean giving up things she loved.

Riding her mare bareback had been forbidden and every time that he had found her without shoes and stockings she had been reprimanded fiercely. She never acted appropriately for his guests as far as he was concerned, and he vocally doubted her ability to raise and family and run a household. She just couldn't help the fact that she preferred her freedom. He just hadn't been able to understand it and had seen it as weakness.

"Milady, we are nearing the outpost," her head guard and one of her dearest friends called back to her.

"Thank you Reginald," she answered. "My brother should have a private coach waiting for us. Inform the outpost principal."

The small group of travelers arrived at the outpost to be met by the sight of blue and silver, Musketeers. It appeared they were arguing with the outpost master over what seemed to have been a scuffle with a young man.

The young man in question had been tossed over a dark haired and bearded Musketeer's shoulder with a bandanna round his head, while his two companions argued matter-of-factly with the outpost sergeant.

"My dear man," another dark haired and bearded man with a cross around his neck was speaking. "Your young boy there was clearly trying to pick our pockets."

"What man, let alone a young boy, would think to steal from a Musketeer," the third man had longer blond hair with a reddish, blond beard. He and his companions seemed rather amused with the situation at hand.

"Please, he's a foolish boy," the outpost master seemed frantic. "His fate will be a worse one if you leave him to his mam."

The three Musketeers looked at one another comically as though this was a terribly hard decision and the one holding the boy captive sighed, "Aye well I suppose my mother was a sight more frightening that any soldier I met when I was young. Make sure he keeps his hands in his pockets from now on."

He dropped the boy soundly on his bottom and clearly held back a chuckle as the boy scrambled to his feet and out of sight as quickly as possible. The outpost master disappeared inside the small building of his office caught between apologizing excessively and cursing at his young boy.

"Excuse me," Juliana had stayed her guard and approached the soldiers herself. "I'm wondering if any of you know a young man by the name of D'Artagnan. I was to meet him here this afternoon."

The three soldiers turned and looked her up and down as though appraising an animal. Instantly three identical grins lit their faces and an unspoken joke seemed to pass between them. The woman standing in front of them was definitely beautiful. She was not petite but deliciously slim and curvy. Her golden brown hair matched that of their curly haired friend D'Artagnan but was only slightly wavy and pulled back atop her head for riding. She had clear hazel eyes that glimmered between silver and gold. Her complexion was not the carefully kept paleness of French court but she had instead a healthy glow that spoke of the outdoors. The three men were instantly taken with her.

She frowned, "I'm sorry but is there something funny?"

"Not at all my lady," the man who had held the young boy captive removed his hat with a flourish and took her hand in a kiss. "We are your escorts for the afternoon courtesy of your brother. I am Porthos, at your service."

"Do not fall for his charms Mademoiselle," the other dark haired Musketeer elbowed his fellow out of the way. "There are far more charming men among Paris' streets. I am Aramis."

She turned expectantly toward the third soldier and smiled, "And am I to have the pleasure of your name, Monsieur?"

He smiled warmly at her and took her hand in his, "My name is Athos, and I am at your service milady."

"And what are we to call such a lovely young woman," Porthos piped up from behind Athos.

"I am Juliana de Castlemore," she replied. "Please dispense with the 'milady'. You may call me Juliana."

The three men grinned again and she was quite sure she heard something about no D'Artagnan in a wig and dress.

Attempting to be more of a gentleman than his counterparts, Athos offered Juliana his arm; "We have a coach waiting to take you into the city."

"If you don't mind my riding with you," she replied. "I'd much rather stay on my horse. I'm rather attached to her and I'd much rather see the city from atop a horse than from a carriage window."

Porthos exclaimed happily, "We are at your disposal milady. My only request is to ride at your side."

With an enchanting smile for Athos she took Porthos' proffered arm and allowed him to help her onto her horse. He very obviously led her horse over to his where he mounted and turned to grin at her, "Shall we, milady Juliana."

She smiled happily, certain that her brother would have preferred they ride in the carriage, "We certainly shall, good sir."

The three Musketeers rode side by side next to her, engaging her in lively conversation, telling lewd jokes, and simply making her feel welcome. As they made their way through the streets of Paris to her townhouse, they told multiple stories of her brother's mishaps all of which never failed to bring tears of mirth to Porthos' eyes.

"You know, your brother has no head for poetry," Aramis told her solemnly. "If the case is true with you, my dear, I would be happy to instruct you in the art."

Juliana couldn't contain her laughter, "Are you a man of God Aramis, because I do not think it would be appropriate for us to be alone together unless you are of the faith."

"I am most certainly of the faith Madame," Aramis answered immediately.

Porthos was heard muttering to Athos, "Yes he has a great _desire_ for his work."

Juliana stifled a smile, hoping that her personal guard would not be too offended by these rogues.

Strangely, Athos had been thinking the same thing. The young woman riding between his companions was visibly enjoying herself and he wondered at her past that she would so openly enjoy his fellows' lewd humor. She was obviously well bred, but it seemed she had some of that spitfire her brother was famous for.

"My lady," Athos spoke directly to her for the first time. "What has brought you to this fine city?"

"Well truth be known," Juliana looked sheepishly at the three men around her. "My husband was recently deceased and coming to see my newly famous brother was an excuse to escape those dreadful mourning clothes."

Athos looked apologetic but Aramis said, "I would seem from your tone that he was not a man you greatly cared for."

"Sadly no," she answered. "We did not love one another. It was a marriage of convenience. He needed a wife and I needed a husband. For it seems at the age of twenty I was almost considered a spinster."

The three men looked surprised.

"Please do not find my asking rude, but how old are you now, my lady?" Aramis asked.

"Three and twenty. I was married for only three years and yet it seems I'm considered an old woman."

Porthos was grinning, "What fun! D'Artagnan is your _little _brother! He never told us, the rogue."

"Yes, big sister Jules," she answered fondly. "He was always getting me into trouble."

"Ah, here it is," Aramis looked up at the addressed townhouse just down the road from the Musketeer headquarters. "You did not tell us your husband was a Comte. Comte Castlemore hasn't been seen in these streets since he was young. Athos and I knew him as boys."

"Perhaps he was a joyful youth," Juliana replied considering he may have been friends with these men. "But he was not a joyful husband. He seemed to think the city was for ill-bred heathens and criminals. Oh, and those 'damned' Musketeers."

Athos stifled a laugh but Aramis was not so shy, "That is quite possibly because he was not accepted to the Musketeers. Poor man, his sword skills were somewhat lacking."

"They never got better, I assure," she answered as Reginald assisted her from her horse. "He was bested by his young wife, on at least a score of occasions."

This was too much for the three men and they burst into laughter.

Juliana grinned, "Thank you gentlemen for a truly wonderful welcome to the city. I hope that I shall see all of you again soon."

They all attempted to rein in their mirth to say their goodbyes.

"I must say I have not laid eyes on a fairer woman in many a year," Porthos told her solemnly. "It is my greatest wish to burden you with my presence daily so that I may look upon your face."

"I'm a lonely old widow Sir Porthos," she answered equally as solemn. "What could you possibly want with a homely old maid as myself?"

Aramis shook his head, "My lady, you do yourself great injustice. Though a clown, Porthos speaks the truth. You are as refreshing as the spring."

"Merci gentleman," she laughed at their mock quarrel for her attentions.

Athos smiled in turn and took her hand, "Lady de Castlemore, it has been a privilege. It would be our honor to be your invited guests at any time."

"You have my thanks, sir," she replied warmly enjoying his golden brown eyes. "I look forward to it. I shall send word with D'Artagnan."

"Goodbye milady," Porthos called as he mounted his horse.

And she was assailed with ardent goodbyes as she climbed the stairs into her townhouse, having been quite happily welcomed to the city of Paris.


	2. Chapter 2: Impressions

Disclaimer: Do no own any of Dumas' material

Short, but necessary fluff :)

Chapter Two

Juliana sighed and collapsed onto her bed. It was strange that this townhouse felt more like home than her Chateau. Perhaps it was only because her late husband Arnaud had never set foot in the townhouse, but though she herself had never set foot here…it felt like it belonged to her.

The staff had been exceedingly friendly and obviously taken aback by her warmth and friendliness. She had sighed inwardly at their surprise, Arnaud Castlemore had not been well known for being generous with his servants.

Had she wanted to complain, she doubted she would have been able to find anything to complain about. The house had been aired and cleaned to a warm glow. The bed linen was new, freshly laundered, and wonderfully soft. Her bedchamber was extremely welcoming and overlooked the courtyard that led to the street. From her windows she could see the colorful city spread out around her as well as the entrance to the Musketeer headquarters. It was perfect.

Standing at those very windows taking in the city, Juliana doubted if she would ever want to go back to that dark and damask chateau.

"Jules!" shouting loudly and grinning like a fool D'Artagnan had finally arrived and was waving wildly at her from the courtyard.

"Hello brother!" she smiled and waved. "Well don't just stand there. Come inside."

She rushed from her room and met her brother halfway down the stairs. He hugged her tightly lifting her off her feet and then planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I've missed you Jules," he smiled happily into her face.

"I missed you too Tag," she replied and slipped her arm through his as they descended the stairs together. She admired his deep blue tunic and suddenly remembered her escorts, "That was quite a bunch you sent to receive me today."

D'Artagnan grinned guiltily, "They were well mannered, I hope."

"Oh yes," she answered. "They made me feel quite at home."

Her brother rolled his eyes, "I was afraid of that."

"No, no brother. They were wonderful. An excellent replacement for you," she looked at him solemnly. "Really, feel free to send them in your stead whenever possible."

He scowled, "You weren't supposed to be that charmed by them."

"They were unbelievably charming. How could you expect anything else?"

He considered this a moment and suddenly had a horrifying vision of Juliana falling madly in love with Porthos. He shook his head, "Just don't fall in love with them too quickly. They're ladies men, the lot of them."

"Well you are one of their ranks now," she replied suggestively. "Are you considered a ladies man these days little brother?"

He suddenly turned brilliantly red and had her staring, "Oh do tell me _why_ you're blushing."

He scowled at her and did his best to change the subject, "And why are you in such good spirits? Aren't you still in mourning."

She looked at him frankly, "D'Artagnan, you know I did not love that man and don't change the subject. I'm you're sister for God's sake. Who is she?"

Fearing being badgered to death he gave in, "Her name is Constance. She is a lady in waiting to the queen."

Juliana gasped dramatically, "But brother, the Queen's handmaidens are forbidden to socialize with the Musketeers. That's why I never considered the position for myself."

He chuckled, "I think that you are far too taken with my fellow Musketeers. Tell me, do you prefer Porthos or Aramis. Which was the more charming?"

Juliana giggled, "Oh Aramis was wonderfully sweet and charming, but Porthos made me laugh. I do love a man who can make me laugh."

He smiled, knowing how taken his fellow Musketeers had to have been with his sister. She'd been that way all of her life. She could charm a smile from the coldest man. He was sure he'd be seeing a lot of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.

"But Athos," her face became thoughtful. "He was something else. Charming but more reserved. He is devilishly handsome if I do say so myself and I rather enjoyed his company. He was more, shall I say, subtle than Porthos and Aramis."

D'Artagnan considered his sister for a moment noting the admiration in her voice. Obviously his friends had made more of an impression than he thought.

She sighed and turned to smile at him again, "You choose your friends wisely, Tag. I wouldn't have expected less. Now, I shall just need to meet your lady friend and I can send a letter to mother assuring her you have settled into the picture perfect life you always dreamed of."

There, finally, was a note of sadness in her face. He hadn't expected her to be overly mournful at Arnaud's death, but his sister was never one to want for emotion. Regardless of her love for the man, she had respected him as a person and would have at least mourned for his life. Still, he was sure there was something more there. Jules had always been a sunny person. Arnaud Castlemore had done his best to make that sun set. It seemed he had not succeeded completely, but had brought a few clouds into her eyes.

Wishing to give her a moment he rose, "I'll head upstairs and prepare for supper. I'm famished. Perhaps then you can tell me about the family and what you intend to do here besides send gossip back to mother."

She smirked, "Oh I'm sure I'll make due. I've been living in a closed up Chateau for months with nothing to do but mourn for a man I barely knew. There are a great deal of things that I can do with my time. I assure you, I shall not go wanting. Now go, freshen up. You smell like a stable."

With a quick smile, he left her in the sitting room. Juliana waited till he had gone and sat back with a sigh. He had touched a sensitive subject. She wasn't sure why she had come to Paris either. All she had considered when she got on that horse at the Chateau de Castlemore was that Paris was far away, and exciting. Upon leaving she had felt like a prisoner escaping from her cell. Paris was freedom to her. There was nothing here to inhibit her or tell her everything about her was wrong.

In fact, looking into the vividly colorful and active streets of Paris, she felt she had found a soul mate. She could be and was already on her way to being happy here. It didn't matter what she did with her time, it was simply the fact that she could do _anything_ she wished with it that mattered.

* * *

Porthos, Aramis, and Athos burst into D'Artagnan's small dwelling hours later just as he was removing his tunic.

"D'Artagnan! Are you going to sleep?" Porthos slung an arm around Athos' shoulders and grinned. "It's far too early for that. We need to get a head start. The festivities start tomorrow morning. We don't want to get left behind, it's the Feast of Fools!"

"I don't know what you're worried about Porthos," Athos lifted a brow and sized his friend up. "You're already the king of fools, what more head start do you need?"

"Ha, ha. You're very funny Athos. If I didn't know any better I'd say you actually had a sense of humor."

Athos shoved Porthos good-naturedly into Aramis and sat down at the small table next to him. Porthos and Aramis immediately started a lively dance together.

"Seriously though,' D'Artagnan exclaimed over Porthos and Aramis's claps and shouts. "I promised to take my sister out tomorrow for the celebrations. She'll be livid if I already have a head in the morning."

"Your sister!" Porthos exclaimed as though suddenly enlightened. "Why didn't you tell us she was coming out with you tomorrow? Such a beauty! And delightfully funny. I do believe you were trying to keep her all for yourself."

"I was instantly fond of her," Aramis agreed. "What say you Athos!"

Athos grinned, "She's not my type."

"Oh yes," Porthos looked thoughtful. "I forget that she would have to despair of life as much as you." Athos lunged after him, but Porthos danced nimbly around to the other side of the table.

"Well good," D'Artagnan answered sternly, ducking out of the way of Athos and Porthos. "That's one of you I won't have to worry about."

"Ah, ma belle," Aramis sighed. "I shall write her a poem. The first line shall read, 'Thank the Lord you look not like your brother!'."

"There will be no poem writing," D'Artagnan did his best to look upset as his friends chuckled. "She's just been widowed."

"We knew that old chap," Porthos answered unmoved. "We delivered her to old Arnaud's town house today. We had no idea you had been married into old Stuffy's family. You have our sincerest sympathy."

"She didn't seem too upset," Athos added. "In fact, I believe if we had encouraged her she may have unleashed some hidden rage she had for the man."

D'Artagnan grinned, "Juliana was never easy to handle and add to the mix her strong dislike of most courtiers…poor Arnaud was not prepared for the hellion my sister was when she became his. Nor was she prepared for his severity I'm afraid. He did succeed in taming her somewhat; she's more of a lady these days. But I tell you, she had our little village wrapped around her finger growing up. Mother was afraid she'd never marry her off."

Athos scoffed, "Marrying off. Poor girl."

"Athos takes marriage very seriously," Aramis winked conspiratorially at D'Artagnan. "Perhaps he can condole your sister."

"He's already said she's not his type," D'Artagnan replied quickly knowing both his sister and his friends far too well. Both were up for an adventure, and both were likely to become fast friends. Somehow he felt it his duty to keep any influences she received from Paris as far from these three as possible.

"Enough!" Porthos exclaimed and brandished his sword at them. "It is time to drink. There is a tavern and a wench with my name on it down the street and you're all coming with me. We shall worry about the Comtesse tomorrow!"

With that they all scrambled to their feet in the face of Porthos' sword, and out into the streets of Paris just as the sun finally sank beneath the horizon.

* * *

**I intend to update this story regularly, but it I do tend to update more quickly when I know others are reading. So if you are, let me know so I don't leave you hanging in suspense for a week at a time between chapters. **

**All my thanks.  
**


	3. Chapter 3: To Be A Fool

_**Disclaimer: Do not own any of Alexandre Dumas' characters or work. **_

_**Well it seems that I'm getting some reviewers and some readers so I will continue with the updates as quickly as I am able. This next chapter sets you up for some action, so be prepared for a bit of a cliffy at the end!**_

**Chapter Three **

Unaware of the night her proposed escort had had, Juliana was secretly preparing herself for the Feast of Fools away from the eyes of her servants. Dressed as she was, she was certain they would all be scandalized.

She gave one last tug and finished tying of the laces of the corset she was wearing and quickly tied a brilliantly colored scarf in her hair. She did a complete turn in the mirror and admired her handiwork. She doubted anyone would believe she was a courtier.

Her tiny waist was encircled by a deep purple corset that she wore over a short-sleeved peasant tunic. Her floor length, chocolate colored skirt swayed perfectly with her hips and was encircled by a lace-fringed shawl. Bracelets jingled musically on her ankles above very modest sandals. Her hair was hung in loose, natural waves beneath her scarf and placing a small gold mask on her face decided she looked very mysterious and alluring.

She couldn't wait to see the look on D'Artagnan's face when he came to get her, feeling sure he would approve of her mischievousness.

A soft knock of the door announced the arrival of her maid servant who stopped in her tracks and stifled a scream, "Who, who are you? What have you done with the mademoiselle?"

Juliana laughed and removed her mask, "C'est moi, Amelie. I am going to the festival tonight with my brother. What do you think?"

"Milady," Amelie looked her over scandalized. "You can see every bit of you. You're feet are bare! Milady you cannot go out like this. What will people think, what will they say?"

Juliana sighed. This was why she hadn't wanted anyone to see her.

"Oh Amelie, no one will know it's me. I'll stay with D'Artagnan and nothing will happen to me. It's so exciting. It will be like the summer festivals at home before I married Arnaud."

Amelie did not look convinced, "Milady, I know it is not my place but this is highly improper. You are in Paris now; this is not like where we grew up. It's dangerous. The Feast of Fools is no exception."

"Relax Amelie, D'Artagnan will take care of me. I refuse to let propriety run my life anymore. I wasn't meant for high society. I miss actually living my life."

Amelie looked as though she was trying to be understanding, but still did not approve. As a servant all of her adult life, society and propriety were what she had built her world around. It was the way she lived and throwing those rules away was incomprehensible to her. She would never be able to understand the woman inside her mistress who was constantly straining to escape society's restraint, never understand her need for freedom and adventure.

"What's going on here?" D'Artagnan's voice reached them from the foyer downstairs. "Reginald I demand that you let me upstairs at once."

"I'm sorry, monsieur," Reginald sounded uncomfortable. "Milady asked that no on disturb her."

"Amelie please don't look at me that way," Juliana said moving to the door to greet her brother. "I need this, and I'll be safe. Don't worry. D'Artagnan's a Musketeer, he'll watch over me."

"As you wish, Madame," Amelie curtsied but kept her eyes averted. She could not approve of her Lady's behavior.

Juliana turned with a sigh and hurried down the stairs. Perhaps she was being a bit reckless, but then she always had been.

"There you are!" D'Artagnan exclaimed when she finally entered the foyer. "Reginald has been very difficult. Why in God's name have you forbidden…"

He stopped short when he noticed her costume. Dressed as a bandit himself, they were going to make quite the roguish couple, but he was certain that she would outshine him tenfold. He grinned at her, "You haven't changed a wit since you were eighteen. That costume is absolutely scandalous Jules, I shouldn't even let you out of the house."

"I know," she twirled happily enjoying the sound of the tinkling bracelets she wore. "But you will, and we're going to have a wicked adventure because of it."

She placed her gold mask back in place and slipped the wine colored shawl Reginald offered over her shoulders, "Come brother, let's be fools."

"After you milady gypsy," he winked slyly at her and opened the door.

* * *

Half an hour later they were immersed in the crowds of people filling the main streets of Paris. As the sun had set, the streets had been lit with colorful lanterns and radiant pagan candles whose shadows flickered on the many flamboyantly dressed men and women of Paris. Most were masked, and so no one would know with what members of society's echelon they were rubbing elbows.

Juliana was in heaven and giddy with excitement.

"Tag, this is incredible. I feel deliciously naughty right now," she squeezed his arm excitedly.

"And may I say madam, that you look deliciously naughty as well," a tall, familiar looking figure emerged from the shadows to place a very improper hand on her waist and pull her away from her brother. The man wore a bandit's mask over his eyes but was unmistakably dressed as a pirate.

"Remove your hands from that woman you rogue," a man dressed simply in all black with a bright silver mask that covered half of his face firmly removed the other man's hand. "Porthos the Pirate you are shameless excuse for a gentleman."

"Porthos!" Juliana exclaimed and clapped her hands together in mirth. "I knew I recognized you. You are very intimidating, monsieur."

"My thanks, milady," he replied his dark eyes twinkling behind his mask. "And you are easily the most beautiful woman on the streets tonight. Ah, the priest approaches. Let him cleanse you of your wicked ways, young gypsy. Be careful though, he tends to get frisky during confessions."

Aramis was not wearing a mask but his face was hidden deep within the hood of the cloak that hung modestly over a very genuine looking cloth of the faith, "Fear not, for it is the nature of women to be wantonly wicked. The Lord has forgiven you, milady."

Juliana giggled as Aramis surveyed her costume and appeared to approve.

"Athos, my dear friend, you are incredibly boring," Porthos turned to Juliana's would be savior and sized up his costume. "I mean I know you always go for subtle, and don't get me wrong the silver is a very nice touch, but all black. Come now man, this is the Feast of Fools."

He grabbed after a brazenly dressed whore would had walked by without a mask and her tittering laugh echoed off the cobbled road as she sent a rather inviting look at Porthos.

"See how the colors of that rather fetching wench's skirt caught my attention," he paused dramatically and stared appreciatively after her. "I think I cannot ignore such a blatant invitation. If you'll excuse me gentlemen."

He took Juliana's hand and kissed it rather suggestively. "And to you my wild eyed beauty. If you turn those eyes on the right man tonight perhaps your night will be a bit more exciting that it will be for you other companions. Adieu, my gypsy rose."

With a decidedly wicked grin, he let his eyes linger on her a few moments more and turned to hunt down his next subject.

"As if her skirt were the only thing that caught his attention," Juliana laughed and turned to Athos who was looking beyond her as if he'd lost something.

"Where has D'Artagnan gotten off to and left you to fend for yourself?" Juliana watched Athos' barely perceptible frown beneath his mask. "If I were your brother, I would never have even let you leave your bed chamber dressed as you are."

"Well then, it is perhaps a very good thing you are not my brother," she answered deciding to take his words as a compliment, but turned to look for D'Artagnan as well. Having been fully entertained by his friends, she had not missed his being gone.

"I do believe that he has found the object of his affections," Aramis pointed to their right and sure enough, D'Artagnan was completely immersed in the beautiful blonde on his arm.

"Oh, let him be," Juliana laughed and was happy to see her younger brother glowing with love. "I'll give him some time and then demand to be introduced to the woman. He did promise me a night of fun and an introduction to his betrothed."

Both men looked skeptically at the merry glint in her hazel eyes.

"We'd be happy to accompany you tonight until your brother is less occupied," Athos offered and raised a brow at her very firm refusal.

"No, no. I'm sure that such handsome men as yourselves have women waiting for you as well. Do not worry about me. An old widow such as myself wouldn't want to burden you, just her little brother. Really I'll be fine. D'Artagnan would murder me if I snuck off alone."

Aramis and Athos shared a well-hidden look of disbelief but nodded in response.

"As you wish, my lady," Aramis bowed and with a flourish disappeared into the crowds.

Athos smirked knowingly as she turned her happy eyes on him, obviously awaiting his departure, "Be warned, Madame. The streets are no place for a lady, especially on this night. Enjoy yourself, but do not go off alone."

She smiled almost indulgently, "I won't forget, and I'll be with D'Artagnan. Thank you, Athos."

Athos nodded his golden head and made his way back through the crowds of people in the direction Porthos had gone.

Grinning in triumph, Juliana quickly glanced behind her to make sure D'Artagnan was fully occupied and then very gracefully disappeared into the vibrant and gaudy masses surrounding her. She had gotten herself out of some very sticky situations before, she was sure that escaping a drunken grab here and a slurred compliment there would be no trouble. She was alone in the streets of Paris during the Feast of Fools. She couldn't have been any happier.

* * *

Even if she had been paying attention in all of her triumphant glee, she would not have noticed Athos as he slipped into the crowd behind her.

Much to his amusement, she had done exactly as he had thought she would and taken off without so much as a second thought about D'Artagnan. The beautifully impetuous brunette had acted quite predictably.

He had almost laughed when she had called herself an 'old widow'. She obviously had no idea what she looked like in that amethyst corset that left nothing to the imagination. She could easily be mistaken for a girl of eighteen, and had every physical feature of a perfectly shaped girl of eighteen. Or perhaps she did, he now thought in bemusement. He hadn't met a woman with her kind of fire since his Sabine. It was refreshing to meet a woman with backbone. And she set your blood afire, the other, companion starved, side of his mind added.

He shoved the thought away. Juliana was a beautiful woman; there was no arguing that. But he wasn't looking to get involved. Even if she hadn't been his friend's sister, the very passion she had for life would have made him turn the other cheek.

He was no good for women, especially a woman like that. He was used up. It didn't matter if the sound of her laugh did warm his blood or that the sight of her hips in that damned gypsy costume had him daydreaming. He had chosen to live alone, a fair price to pay for the way he had made the only woman he ever loved suffer.

Frowning slightly, he glanced up and realized her had lost sight of her. Immediately freezing, he thoroughly searched the crowd around him until he found the brightly glinting scarf in those russet waves. Releasing his tension, he moved to go after her when he noticed the way she was acting and paused in curiosity.

She was pushed back as far into the shadows of the building next to her as she could possibly be and seemed to be trying very much to go unnoticed as three men discreetly entered the alleyway to her right.

He watched, as she very obviously made sure _she_ wasn't being watched, and slipped into the alleyway after them. Cursing under his breath, he began moving. He wished desperately that he could run but he didn't want to draw attention to himself. Angrily sidestepping, a stumbling pair of drunk lovers, he reached the entrance of the alley only to find Juliana was nowhere to be found.

Feeling dread descend on him, he moved quickly into the shadows and prayed that if something were to happen he wouldn't be too late.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. I enjoy hearing from people. Please bear with me on these next few chapters, my school work load is pretty big right now so it may take me a few days to update after I put the next chapter up. **

**My sincerest thanks.  
**


	4. Chapter 4: Green Eyes

**Sorry it's been so long since I updated. School was crazy this week. I love college, but seriously...Friday exams are the worst. Anyway, you'd think I'd be used to that by now. So here is an extra long chapter to make up for it! read and review :)**

**Chapter Four**

Juliana reveled in her freedom and the spontaneity around her. She hadn't thought it was going to be that easy to get away from D'Artagnan. But then, he had probably seen how occupied his friends were with her and felt she was safe.

She didn't care if she was safe. She'd lived under a tyrannical husband for too many years. She was a grown woman she was going to do what she wanted with her life.

She passed of group of men, obviously young courtiers in their finery, who hollered and motioned her over. She smiled seductively at them and shook her head with a small smile. The rest of the group pushed a man forward and towards her. He was probably no more than eighteen and blushing profusely.

"Good evening mademoiselle," he said quietly, fighting his nervousness to smile.

"Good evening sir," she curtsied lightly and awaited his intentions trying not to laugh.

"If I-If I could trouble you, good lady," she watched as he tried to assure himself and moved forward to take her hand. Finally he looked at her determinedly, "I would trouble the lady for a kiss. You see I've not had a proper one in my short seventeen years, and I am exceedingly tired of the ridicule of my friends."

Juliana raised a brow and glanced back at the group of guffawing buffoons behind him, "It would seem, my friend, that you are the best of the lot anyway and should continue living life the way you choose."

"Wait," he held tightly to her hand when she made to go. "Please, whether you are lady or wench, you are a beautiful woman and tonight, we are all fools. So please, I beg of you while I still have the courage to make a fool of myself, let me steal a kiss."

Juliana smiled and he seemed to visibly relax, "Alright, good sir. You have my permission."

Moving forward he took her awkwardly into his arms.

She sighed, poor boy was so shy.

"Don't be afraid of women," she whispered and firmly corrected his grip so that he had his arm placed firmly around her waist. "And don't be afraid of a silly little kiss."

With that she leaned it and kissed him gently, lingering on his lips and brushing her tongue quickly across his bottom lip. He tasted sweetly of ale, but not of pipe smoke as so many boys had when she lived at home. She murmured appreciatively against him lips for good measure, and felt his arm tighten slightly pulling her closer to him.

She enjoyed herself a moment longer and pulled away, satisfied that the boy wouldn't forget his first kiss. She tried not to laugh at the dazed and lusty look on his face but couldn't contain a smile.

"You are a natural, my lord. I'm sure your practiced friends could not have loved me half so well."

He was recovering slightly and had opened his mouth to ask her a question when she suddenly heard a hurried and whispered conversation behind her.

"That's right, he's going to kill the Musketeer tonight. That's where I'm headed right now. The damned fool found out about the assassination plot somehow and was blabbing to half the town this evening in his drunken stupor."

Juliana turned cautiously to the side and glanced at the two men. They were hidden within dark cloaks and seemingly oblivious to the crowd they had just entered into from the nearby tavern. They had put too much trust in humanity being too occupied with themselves, their women, and their wine to give them much notice.

Her heart had skipped a beat and she felt the hairs rising on the back of her neck. A plot of assassination, and they were killing a Musketeer that had overheard. Those were dangerous statements. She thought desperately of D'Artagnan and his friends lost somewhere in the crowd around her, but realized that these men would be gone and lost before she was ever able to find her brother.

As the two men beside her began moving away, she made the abrupt decision to follow them. Deaf to the cries of the young man asking her her name, she moved closer to the tavern and pressed herself into the shadows to watch uninhibited as the men slowly made their way through the crowds and to the alley to her right.

A wisp of conversation reached her ears just as they turned into the shadowed passage, "…who knows how long his majesty will reign…"

Juliana suddenly felt as though her veins had turned to ice. Was it possible? So soon? D'Artagnan and his fellow Musketeers had just turned over a plot to kill the King. What man possessed of any shred of sanity would consider such a thing?

She waited until she could no longer see their shadows and looked quickly about. Absolutely no one was paying her any attention, and so she slipped unnoticed into the alley after the two cloaked men; at least she had thought.

She caught sight of their shadows just as they rounded the corner at the end of the alley and disappeared. Fearing she would lose them, she hurried as silently as possible to the corner, cursing herself for the jingling bracelets at her ankles and wrists.

She peered cautiously around the corner and saw nothing. The passage before her was empty and dark. Taking a moment to remove her jewelry, she left it on the floor of the alley and hastened around the corner into the dark. They couldn't have gone far, and as far as she could tell there wasn't another alley leading back toward the main road for a whole other block. They had to be around somewhere.

She stifled her cry when a cat hissed at her from beneath a doorstep. It's yellow eyes glared meanly at her as she hurried past shaking her head at her edginess. How had they disappeared so quickly? They couldn't have gotten far.

Suddenly she froze, as she heard male voices almost directly to her right. She took a step forward and realized there was a small entrance to the back entrance of one of the buildings on the main road. If she hadn't heard their voices, she never would have known it was there. She silently ducked through the entrance and glued herself to the wall so she could listen unseen.

"So you thought you were smart telling everyone they you had singlehandedly uncovered a plot to kill the King, hmm? Well, I've met more intelligent Musketeers in my time, or at least, ones who hold their liquor a touch better."

"What are you going to do with me?" Juliana presumed this to be the Musketeer. "Kill me, if that's what you intend. Just get it over with."

"Being courageous won't make up for your stupidity," another man growled, his voice different from the original she had heard.

"Who have you told besides the drunken sods we found you with?"

Frustrated, Juliana moved closer. If she could just get a glimpse of the men she was positive she'd be able to identify them again and she'd run for D'Artagnan.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"That depends on how cooperative you're going to be. Now, who did you tell about our little plans for the King. Because surely, if you've ruined the plan to kill him while he's in Venice, I won't kill you…"

The man's voice had suddenly become dangerously soft. "I'll torture you until you beg me to take your life."

She heard a heavy thud and very obviously reasoned that the Musketeer had been struck.

"Out with it! I can do this all night."

Gathering her courage, Juliana took the last two steps forward and slowly glanced around the corner. There were three men standing in a half circle around a man on the ground. The man on the ground was bleeding liberally from the mouth and the man to his right was wiping his knuckles clean. She was slightly relieved that she didn't recognize the Musketeer but the man standing directly in front of him, had her throat closing in fear.

She'd seen him only once before. His eyes were a poisonous green and set into heavy yet handsome features. He had been a student of the Cardinal when she was just a girl. He had spoken to her the last and only time they had met.

* * *

"_Well aren't you a pretty little thing," she had been too young then to know what the lust and sin in his eyes could have meant for her. "What are you doing playing all alone in the courtyard. Are you one of the King's cousins?"_

"_No sir," she answered solemnly looking up mesmerized into his too green eyes. "My papa is a Musketeer. I am waiting for him and my brother to return from the market." _

"_Tsk, tsk," he kneeled down to bring his face level with hers. "Your father is too secure leaving his pretty young fille all alone. These are dangerous times." _

"_But I'm not alone," she had instantly demanded. "One of the Queen's ladies has been with me. Only just now did she go to get my doll. The sun hasn't been out in days, and I wished to play in it." _

_He smiled at her and she naively missed the wicked glint in his eye. He reached a pale hand forward and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, "Such a beauty. I could just eat you up." _

_Juliana laughed uneasily, her young mind not understanding why she was bothered by the touch of his flesh. _

"_What is your name?" _

"_Juliana," she whispered, suddenly unsure of the young man in front of her. _

"_Well Juliana, perhaps you would like to come play with me instead of with a silly little doll. You're a big girl, and dolls aren't for big girls." _

_Juliana hesitated when he stretched out his hand to her, "My papa said to stay here with Clarice. He would be so angry if I disobeyed him." _

"_Do not worry, ma petite," he answered and took a tight hold on her hand. "You are safe with me, your father will understand." _

_Juliana tugged on her hand but he refused to let go, "Please Monsieur. I cannot, papa frightens me when he's angry."_

_She watched his kindly face transform before her eyes and recoiled in fear, "You will come with me, Juliana. If you don't I shall give you something infinitely worse to fear." _

_He dragged her forward and she cried out in pain. _

_He pulled her up by the arms and shook her fiercely, "And you will be silent, or your punishment will be that much worse." _

_Tears had started streaming down her eyes but to his surprise there was furious rage growing behind those tears instead of fear, "Let me go. Please, let me go. I don't want to go with you." _

_He sneered, "You are going to be most entertaining." _

_Even as a little girl, Juliana's instincts were true. She pulled back as hard as she could and kicked him hard in the stomach. His eyes popped open in surprise and he let her go with a grunt of pain. _

"_You little wench," he choked. "I'll kill you." _

_Scrambling to her feet, she got to her feet and ran as fast as she could towards the castle. Feeling as though it was life or death that she reach the courtyard doorway, she pushed her small legs as hard as she could and nearly knocked Clarice over when they collided at her destination. _

"_Juliana! Whatever is the matter?" _

_Juliana suddenly felt very overwhelmed and looked up at the Queen's handmaiden with round and frightened eyes, "There's a man that wanted to take me away." _

"_A man?" Clarice frowned and looked beyond the little girl and into the courtyard. It was empty. "But what games are you playing, ma petite?" _

"_Don't call me that!" Juliana cried suddenly. "He called me that just now. Clarice, he put his hands on me and told me he was going to kill me." _

"_Hush, bebe," Clarice knelt and took the shaking girl into her arms. She frowned in concern; who within the castle walls would scare a child so? "What did he look like, Jule?" _

_Juliana pulled back to look at Clarice as if to make sure she understood everything that came out of her mouth, "He was tall like papa, but thin and very pale. He had horrible green eyes that scared me. They were too green, Clarice." _

"_Laurent?" she asked in surprise and the lady in waiting frowned. The child had just described Cardinal Richelieu's best student, Laurent Dubois. How was that possible? He was a man of faith. _

_In her narrow-mindedness, Clarice reasoned with herself. The man had obviously been trying to help the child and she had a fear of strangers. _

_Gathering the girl close Clarice did her best to comfort her, "It is alright, darling. I'm sure he was just trying to be helpful." _

_Juliana violently shook her head and buried her face in Clarice's neck. The handmaiden couldn't understand, she hadn't seen the violence in those green eyes as he had promised to kill her. _

_

* * *

  
_

Laurent Dubois had possibly been as twisted or more so than the Cardinal himself. That was why he had been the Cardinal's prized student. They thought so much alike.

But the Cardinal had been overthrown and locked away, what did Laurent think he could possibly accomplish with everyone aware of where his loyalties lied. People had had a hard enough time trusting those verdant eyes in his proclaimed innocence.

"Well, what have we here?"

Juliana gasped and wheeled around. She had been so shocked when she recognized Laurent that she had almost forgotten where she was. Standing before her was a grizzled man, dressed grandly if not a little foolishly for the festivities. His eyes gleamed black in the shadows and she unconsciously took a step backwards.

"Ah, ma petite," the man mused. "Are you a spy then? What Musketeer is your lover and has sent you to your death?"

"Andre," a shout came from behind them. "Who are you talking with? I expressly told you to arrive alone."

The man before her grinned maliciously and grabbed her roughly by the arm, "Come on, little spy. Laurent loves a beautiful woman, maybe he'll pleasure you before he kills you."

Juliana struggled uselessly against the man's iron grip as she was dragged none to gently into the lamplight. He drew a cry from her when he viciously ripped off her mask and threw her at Laurent's feet.

"I found a wee birdie peeking round the corner," he spat and threw her mask down by her hands. "I'm guessing she knows our Musketeer friend here, or perhaps one of his friends."

"Well, well," Juliana's memories came back to her strongly at the slightly more mature sound of Laurent's voice. The boy had become a man. "This _is_ interesting. Are you in love with him, wench. Were you coming to save his life? Too late."

"Michel," his voice was making her blood run cold.

She looked up as a man stepped forward and raised his pistol at the Musketeer beside her. She locked eyes with him and saw pity in the man's eyes. It wasn't for him she realized, but for herself.

"Adieu, mademoiselle," he whispered and the next thing she knew she had gone deaf to the world and the man's eyes slid slowly out of focus as collapsed dead at her side.

She thought distantly that she may have screamed but her mind was frozen in horror with the image of the valiant dead man beside her.

"Alright, madame," Laurent had apparently finished taunting her. He tired of games easily it seemed. "Tell me who you are and who sent you and I may give you an extra hour or two to live."

Juliana remained stubbornly silent.

He kicked her in the ribs and barked, "Stupid wench. Who sent you?"

"No one!" she snapped. "I overheard your men talking and followed them."

She hadn't raised her eyes yet afraid he would recognize them. So she watched silently as Laurent's boots turned towards the man nearest to him and knocked him out with a heavy strike.

"Idiots," he snarled. "Pitiful excuse for men. I told you to watch your mouths. Who knows what other senseless fool heard you and ran off to their precious Musketeers instead of being decidedly brave if not as completely unintelligent as this one."

"Look at me," he demanded. "Are you pretty?"

She ground her teeth together and refused to look up.

"Imprudent little bitch. Don't waste your courage on me, I said look at me!"

Without warning he reached down and hit her cruelly across the face.

She bit her lip in an effort not to cry out and curled into herself protectively.

"Andre, bring her to her feet."

The man behind her grabbed her roughly under the arms and forced her to her feet, "She's feisty, Laurent."

"That she is," he chuckled darkly. "Now look at me."

Seeing no other choice, Juliana defiantly raised her eyes and instantly saw recognition. Damn her father for giving D'Artagnan and herself their unmistakable blue eyes.

"Juliana D'Artagnan." His eyes widened in disbelief and then became darkly amused. "But I believe it's Widow Castlemore these days if I'm not mistaken."

She glared at him and refused to speak.

"I was right about you. What a beautiful woman you turned into. I see you haven't changed much since the seven year old girl I met that day. It's a shame they wasted you on Castlemore."

The man was mocking her. She had overheard all of his plans, watched him killed a man, and openly defied him; and he was mocking her. She ground her teeth together and remained silent. If he was going to kill her, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of her fear.

"So willful. It's a shame I'll have to kill you. How much exactly did you overhear."

"Enough," she said quietly.

"Well, what a knack your family has for getting in the way of people who want to kill the King. I really honestly would think you had all learned a lesson the first time."

"D'Artagnan killed Rochefort and imprisoned Richelieu, what is there to be ashamed of about that?" she looked him fearlessly in the face.

She recoiled slightly when he licked his well shaped lips and closed the space between them, "I never said you should be ashamed. I would just hate for you to die because of some stupid notion of loyalty that men have planted in your head."

He placed a finger to her lips when she began angrily rejoining.

"I have never forgotten you, ma petite. You have grown as well as I had hoped and I want you even more now," he ran a hand smoothly from her ribs down to her waist. "Such a waste, your death will be, and all for some misguided attempt at loyalty to the King."

Laurent looked up suddenly at the sound of footsteps, "Andre, go and greet whoever has come to visit."

With a silent nod, Andre turned and disappeared through the opening behind him.

"Is someone following you?" he breathed into her face, running his manicured fingers through her wavy tresses. "Someone else meant to die for you tonight. I did not think that the Feast of Fools was so aptly named."

"I know nothing of who has followed me," she retorted. "I am alone."

A pistol shot echoed through the darkness from the alley and the shout that followed clearly identified Andre as the wounded.

"Juliana!" a man was crying out her name.

"Damn it all to hell, blasted Musketeer!" Laurent swore loudly. "Michel, Serge. Do something with this girl, we have lingered too long."

Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the building in front of them. Serge, the one who hadn't killed the Musketeer, looked wildly towards the sound of her rescuers footsteps and fled after Laurent.

"Bloody coward," Michel swore under his breath. He looked fiercely at her, "You are in luck mademoiselle, he had the only gun that could have killed you. So my best wishes if you should awake from this."

He raised the butt of his pistol and brought it down on her head. She stared blankly at the man's retreating back for a moment and then the world went black.

* * *

**Well how was that for an update? I thought it went rather well, please let me know what you thought and review! Thanks for reading :)**


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